Habits

I love Nutella! Plain and simple. Absolutely anything goes with Nutella. Somethings mesh a little better than other. For instance, mangoes, bananas, and bread are better with a dab (read: glob) than tomatoes. Strangely enough, I hadn't eaten Nutella before coming to Africa, a massive mistake (and perhaps a healthier one). It has become part of my diet, a taste from home or, in this case, a reminder of it. It's things like Nutella, GPS, and driving that remind me of what I was once a member.

Another thing I have noticed is how I speak. To prevent confusion, I use some words such as chips and petrol instead of french fries and gas. The words are of much less importance than the way they are said. In order to be sure someone understands, I try to speak as clearly as possible. This often means spending more time enunciating at the expense of speed. A couple days ago, while sitting in her kitchen, Cristy offered me a hot drink. I replied, "Oh thanks, I will get it myself so I can do a little something something to it" (meaning "make it the way I like it"). In America, "little something something" is pronounced "lil' sum'n sum'n" and more mumbled than spoken. However, I had unintentionally enunciated each syllable. Cristy, being American and familiar with such phrases, turned towards me, gave me this look of "I can't believe you just said that", and laughed.

It's odd the things we bring with us, what is left at home, and what is acquired along the way. I brought clothes from home, clothes familiar to me. They were comfortable because they fit my body, my budget, and my image of myself. Those clothes are still with me although they have suffered long and have aged considerably. Likewise, I brought the "I know, therefore I do. Now I'm done, good-bye" mentality. Western society was like a house key: you don't think about it until you need to get into your own quiet place that feels secure. Many things stayed at home: grilled veggie burgers, well-paved roads to wherever I needed to go, reliable internet, and a scolding hot shower. Occasionally, life teases me and reminds me of America. But what I like the most is what's been acquired along the way (excluding some viruses and the such): appreciation of labor that doesn't require paperwork or a desk, a new-found respect for the simple act of communion, an amalgamation of what I liked about my culture with what I like about this one, just to name a few. Although I, in the somewhat distant future, may ingest copious quantities of Nutella from the comfort of the parents' sofa, I don't want to forget the things gained, the things which don't require a suitcase.